CHAPTER CXIX.

THE EXAMINATION OF MR. FRANK CURTIS.

Captain O’Blunderbuss surveyed his friend with a degree of admiration

amounting almost to envy, as the latter leapt nimbly into the box;

but when the two Commissioners inflicted upon the Insolvent the

simultaneous long stare which seemed to form a portion of the judicial

proceedings, the gallant officer fixed upon those learned functionaries

a look of the most ferocious menace,--muttering at the same time

something about the “punching of heads.” As for Mr. Frank Curtis, he

returned the stare of the Commissioners in so deliberately impudent and

yet good-humoured a manner that it was quite evident the physiognomical

discrimination of the bench was at least for once completely set at

naught. In plain terms, the Commissioners did not know what the deuce

to make of the young gentleman.

“I appear for the Insolvent, sir,” said one of the learned counsel, Mr.

Cadgerbreef by name.

“And I attend for an opposing creditor, sir,” observed Mr. Bulliwell.

The Clerk of the Court handed up the schedule to the Commissioners, who

occupied some minutes in looking over it, the document being somewhat a

lengthy one.

“I see you have got upwards of a hundred and fifty creditors,

Insolvent,” said Mr. Commissioner Sneesby, fixing his eyes severely

upon the youthful candidate for the process of white-washing.

“Be Jasus! and my frind’s a jintleman--every inch of him!” cried

Captain O’Blunderbuss: “and no jintleman could think of petitioning the

Court with less than a hunthred and fifty creditors.”

The whole Court was struck with dismay--the bench being perfectly

aghast--at this interruption; while the captain stood as dauntless

and menacing as if he seriously contemplated the challenging of

Commissioners, learned counsel, lawyers, and all. Even the usher was so

astounded by his conduct that he forgot to bawl out his usual noisy cry

for silence.

“Who is this person?” enquired Mr. Commissioner Sneesby, turning

towards his brother-judge, as if the latter knew any better than

himself.

“_Person_, be Jasus! Don’t call me _a person_,” vociferated the gallant

gentleman, stamping his martial foot heavily upon the floor. “Is it me

name ye’d be afther finding out? If so, I’ll hand ye my car-r-d--and

you’ll find that I’m Capthain O’Bluntherbuss, of Bluntherbuss Park,

Connemar-r-ra, Ir-r-reland!” added the Insolvent’s bosom-friend,

rattling the r in such an appalling manner that it seemed as if a

waggon laden with iron bars was passing through the Court.

“Turn him out!” exclaimed Mr. Commissioner Sneesby.

“Be Jasus! and it’ll take tin of ye to do that!” ejaculated the

captain, taking so firm and dauntless a stand that he appeared

literally nailed to the ground. “But we’ll make a compromise, if ye

plaze--and that is, I’ll hould my tongue.”

[Illustration]

“You had better, sir,” said the Commissioner: then, perceiving that

none of the officials seemed inclined to assail the impregnable front

which the ferocious Irishman presented, he thought it prudent to pass

over the interruption and continue the business before the Court. “Who

attends to oppose?” he accordingly demanded.

“Me!” ejaculated a little, dapper-looking, flashily-dressed person,

elbowing his way through the crowd behind the barristers’ seats,

and getting his glossy beaver smashed flat as an opera hat in the

desperate struggle: indeed, what with the smell of onions from one man

and tobacco from another,--what with the squeezing, and pushing, and

crushing--the treading on toes, and the danger of having one’s coat

slit up the back or one’s pocket picked,--it is no easy nor pleasant

matter to transform oneself into a human wedge to be applied to such a

stubborn, compact mass as a multitude in a Court of Justice.

At last, however, the little man succeeded in reaching the

witness-box,--but not without being compelled to smart under the

disagreeable conviction that the studied elegance of his toilette was

entirely marred--his shirt-frill tumbled, his white waistcoat soiled

through contact with a coal-heaver, and all the polish trodden off his

boots.

Adjusting himself as well as he could in the box, he made a profound

bow to the bench, simpered in a familiar fashion towards his counsel,

glanced complacently at the attorneys, and then turned a look of

indignant contempt upon the Insolvent,--so that the little gentleman’s

transitions from excruciating politeness to extreme hauteur were very

interesting indeed.

“Your name is Kicksey Fopperton, I believe?” said Mr. Bulliwell, the

opposing creditor’s own counsel, specially retained and fee’d for the

purpose of getting Mr. Frank Curtis remanded during as lengthened a

period as possible.

“That is my name, sir,” was the answer, delivered with a bland smile

and a half bow.

“What are you, Mr. Fopperton?”

“A tailor by trade, sir;”--for persons of Mr. Fopperton’s calling never

describe themselves briefly as “tailors,” but always as “tailors by

trade.”

“A tailor by trade,” repeated Mr. Bulliwell. “And you carry on

business----”

“In Regent Street, sir,” replied Mr. Fopperton, glancing towards the

bench to notice what effect such a fashionable address had produced

upon the Commissioners: but one was dozing, and the other seemed to be

looking at nothing--just as horses appear when they are standing idle.

“In Regent Street,” repeated Mr. Bulliwell. “And I believe the

Insolvent called upon you, and ordered clothes to a considerable

amount?”

“I have supplied him for the last three years,” answered Mr. Fopperton,

“and never yet saw the colour of his money.”

“You never yet saw the colour of his money. But he has seen the colour

of yours, though?”

“I have discounted bills for him to the amount of a thousand pounds.”

“To the amount of a thousand pounds. Now, on what pretence--or rather,

under what circumstances did the Insolvent introduce himself to you?”

inquired Mr. Bulliwell.

“He drove up to my door in a dashing gig, sir,” answered Mr. Fopperton,

“leapt down, rushed in, and enquired if his friend the Archbishop of

Canterbury had been waiting there for him? I assured him that his Grace

had not visited the shop, to my knowledge, in all his life. ‘_God

bless me!_’ exclaimed Mr. Curtis; ‘_I must have made a mistake, then!

But don’t you make the leather breeches which his Grace wears when he

goes out hunting?_’ I replied that I never made leather breeches at

all. ‘_Nor galligaskins?_’ said Mr. Curtis. ‘_Nor galligaskins, sir_,’

I said. ‘_Then blow me tight_’ says he, ‘_I have come to the wrong

shop. My intimate and particular friend the Archbishop of York_----‘.

I suggested ‘_Canterbury_,’--‘_Canterbury I meant!_’ exclaimed Mr.

Curtis: ‘_his Grace promised to introduce me to his own tailor; and

here have I been promising introductions likewise to Lord Pumpleby and

the Marquis of Dublin, and a whole lot of my fashionable friends. There

is a perfect rage all on a sudden to employ his Grace’s tailor!_’--I

was struck by all this fine-sounding talk, and handed Mr. Curtis my

card. ‘_Egad!_’ said he, laughing, ‘_I’ve a precious good mind to have

a lark, and pit you against his Grace’s tailor. My eyes! what fun it

would be!_’”

“And it ended by the Insolvent actually putting you in competition with

the imaginary tailor which he had conjured up?” enquired Mr. Bulliwell.

“Just so, sir,” returned Mr. Fopperton “and though I heard sometime

afterwards that Mr. Curtis received a handsome income from his uncle

Sir Christopher Blunt, yet I never got a sixpence.”

“Be Jasus! Sir Christopher-r is a regular ould screw!” ejaculated

Captain O’Blunderbuss.

“Eh?--what?” cried the Commissioners, the one awaking from his nap and

the other from his obliviousness.

“Is it afther distur-r-bing ye I’ve been again?” demanded the gallant

gentleman: “then, be the holy poker-r! I ask your pardon--and I’ll

hould my pace!”

With these words the captain put his arms akimbo--pursed up his mouth

in a most extraordinary fashion--and stood as still as a post and as

demure as a methodist parson, to the huge delight of the unwashed

audience.

“It appears,” said Mr. Bulliwell, resuming his examination of the

opposing creditor, “that the Insolvent obtained clothes to the amount

of four hundred pounds, and cash to the amount of a thousand?”

Mr. Fopperton bowed an assent.

“And you have every reason to believe that he only talked about the

Archbishop’s tailor and his noble acquaintances, in order to throw dust

into your eyes?”

“To make a fool of me, sir,” cried Mr. Kicksey Fopperton.

“To make a fool of you,” repeated Mr. Bulliwell.

“And an ass of me, sir!” ejaculated the tailor, with increasing warmth.

“And an ass of you,” echoed the learned counsel.

“Yes, sir--and to make a stupid old owl of me!” vociferated Mr.

Fopperton.

“A stupid old owl of you,” still repeated Mr. Bulliwell, in the most

matter-of-fact style possible: then, perceiving that his client had

exhausted alike his self-reproaching epithets and his breath, the

learned counsel sate down.

Thereupon up rose Mr. Cadgerbreef, who had been retained for the

defence of the Insolvent; and as he pulled his gown over his shoulders

and prepared to cross-examine the opposing creditor, Captain

O’Blunderbuss turned partially round, and forming an arch with his hand

on one side of his mouth, said, in a pretty loud tone however, “Be

Jasus! and if ye don’t make mince mate of him, it’s meself that’ll skin

him alive!”

The learned counsel nodded his head in a significant manner, as much

as to say, “Just wait a moment--and you shall see how I’ll serve

him;”--and the gallant captain appeared satisfied with the tacit

promise thus conveyed.

“Now, Mr. Fopperton,” cried Mr. Cadgerbreef, who was considered to be

particularly skilful in badgering and baiting an opposing creditor,

“you’ll be so kind as to remember that you are upon your oath:” and the

learned counsel glanced towards the bench, as much as to intimate that

the Commissioners were keeping a sharp look out on him, the opposing

creditor aforesaid, and would send him to Newgate without remorse at

the least symptom of perjury that might transpire.

Mr. Fopperton cast his eyes timidly in the same direction; and it

was no doubt some satisfaction to him to observe that the sleepy

Commissioner _was_ fast asleep, and that the other was just going off

into a doze.

“Well, Mr. Fopperton,” exclaimed Mr. Cadgerbreef, in a very loud and

very overbearing tone, “so you have come to oppose the Insolvent’s

discharge--have you? Now answer me this question: have you ever been

in that box yourself?” pointing at the same time in a resolute and

determined manner towards the place occupied by Mr. Curtis.

“Am I bound to answer that question?” asked Mr. Fopperton, becoming

considerably crest-fallen all on a sudden, and appealing meekly to his

own counsel.

“I am afraid you must,” returned Mr. Bulliwell.

“Well, then,sir--I have had the misfortune to pass through this Court,”

said the fashionable tailor, his countenance growing excessively blank.

“You _have_ been insolvent,” exclaimed Mr. Cadgerbreef. “Now, sir,

how often have you petitioned the Court and been discharged from your

liabilities through the proceedings of this Court?”

“Really, sir--I--I----” stammered the West-End tailor, becoming awfully

red in the face.

“Shall I repeat the question, sir?” demanded the learned counsel,

affecting a politeness that was even more galling than his severity had

been.

“You had better answer, Mr. Fopperton,” said Mr. Bulliwell.

“I can’t say--that is--not exactly----”

“Oh! very well--then we shall see!” cried Mr. Cadgerbreef, taking up a

pen, dipping it deep into the ink, and making believe that he was about

to take down the answers to be given to his questions--so as to catch

the opposing creditor out perjuring himself if possible: “will you

swear, Mr. Fopperton, that you have not been insolvent seven times?”

“Yes, sir--I _will_ swear to that,” returned the tailor with alacrity.

“You will swear. Well--will you swear that you have not been insolvent

five times?”

“Yes, sir--I will swear to that too.”

“You will swear to that, too. Now mind what you’re about, Mr.

Fopperton: take care what you say,” cried Mr. Cadgerbreef, in a tone of

awful menace. “Will you swear that you have not been insolvent three

times?”

“No, sir--I--I can’t swear to that,” answered the tailor, looking very

miserable.

“You can’t swear to that. Now, can you deny it?” “No, sir--I cannot,”

said Mr. Fopperton.

“You cannot,” repeated Mr. Cadgerbreef, casting a glance at Captain

O’Blunderbuss, which seemed to say, “I have him now!”--then, again

addressing himself to the opposing creditor, he exclaimed in a

domineering, browbeating manner, “Take care what you are about, Mr.

Fopperton;--and now tell me whether you have not been bankrupt, as well

as insolvent, several times.”

“No--only once bankrupt,” cried Mr. Fopperton, impatiently.

“Well--once bankrupt--and enough too, when coupled with three

insolvencies!” said the learned gentleman, in a tone which very

significantly implied his belief that the opposing creditor was the

greatest scoundrel in the universe. “And pray how much have you ever

paid in the shape of dividend, sir?”

“I really can’t say at this moment: I----”

“Oh! you can’t--can’t you!” cried Mr. Cadgerbreef: “then I’ll see if I

can refresh your memory;”--and, taking out of his pocket a letter from

some friend or relation, he pretended to examine it with very great

attention, as if it contained some damning testimony relative to Mr.

Fopperton’s dealings--although, in reality, it had no more connexion

with him or his affairs than with the man in the moon.

“I think I recollect now, sir,” said the West-End tailor, getting

frightened: “I--I----”

“Well, sir--can you answer my question?” demanded Mr. Cadgerbreef,

laying his fore-finger on the letter in a marked and formal manner,

just as if he were pointing to the very paragraph which furnished all

requisite information respecting the tailor. “I will repeat it again

for you: how much have you ever paid, collectively and under all your

numerous insolvencies and frequent bankruptcies, in the shape of

dividend?”

“Two-pence three farthings in the pound, sir,” answered Mr. Fopperton,

in a low tone.

“Speak out, sir!” vociferated the learned counsel, although he heard

perfectly well what had been said. “Two-pence three farthings in the

pound,” exclaimed the unfortunate Snip, who already repented most

bitterly that, by coming to oppose Mr. Frank Curtis, he had fallen into

the hands of Mr. Cadgerbreef.

“Two-pence three farthings in the pound,” repeated this learned

gentleman, tossing up his head as if in unmitigated abhorrence at such

awful villainy. “And pray, sir, what was the aggregate of liabilities

under all your innumerable insolvencies and your equally numberless

bankruptcies?”

“I never was bankrupt more than once, sir,” mournfully and imploringly

remonstrated the tailor, now worked up to a frightful pitch of

nervousness and misery.

“Don’t shirk my question, sir!” exclaimed the barrister, sternly. “How

much did all your liabilities--”

“Thirty thousand pounds, sir,” hastily cried Mr. Fopperton,

anticipating the repetition of the query on the part of the learned

gentleman.

“Be Jasus! and he’s a complete villain!” said Captain O’Blunderbuss,

in such a loud tone that both the Commissioners woke up: whereupon the

gallant officer affected to be seized with a sudden inclination to gaze

up abstractedly at the sky-light, just for all the world as if he were

quite innocent of any fresh interruption.

“Now, Mr. Fopperton,” exclaimed Mr. Cadgerbreef, seeing that the

Commissioners were all attention just at this moment, and taking

a skilful advantage of the circumstance, “under your numerous

insolvencies and frequent bankruptcies--don’t interrupt me, sir--you

have paid two-pence three farthings in the pound, on aggregate

liabilities amounting to thirty thousand pounds. The Court will be

pleased to notice these facts. And yet, Mr. Fopperton, we find you

discounting a thousand pounds’ worth of bills for my client, the

Insolvent. The Court will again please to take a note of this fact.”

Of course the Commissioners could not help making--or at least

affecting to make the memoranda suggested by the learned counsel: so

the sleepy one scrawled a zig-zag line across his note-book, and the

other hit off a rapid sketch of Captain O’Blunderbuss’s face, Mr.

Commissioner Sneesby being very proficient in that style of drawing.

The two functionaries then laid down their pens, and looked as solemn

and serious as if they had actually and positively taken the notes in

the most business-like manner possible.

“Now, sir,” continued Mr. Cadgerbreef, once more turning to the

opposing creditor, “will you tell the Court how much hard cash you gave

the Insolvent for his acceptance of one thousand pounds?”

“Really, sir, the occurrence is so long ago--I--I----”

“Will you swear, man, that you gave him two hundred pounds?” demanded

the learned counsel, impatiently.

“Yes, sir--I will,” was the instantaneous answer.

“Will you swear that you gave him four hundred?”--and Mr. Cadgerbreef

dipped his pen into the ink with an air of awful determination.

“Why--no--I can’t exactly----” stammered the tailor, every instant

becoming more and more nervous.

“Will you swear that you gave him three hundred and twenty pounds in

hard cash for that bill?” demanded Mr. Cadgerbreef.

“That was just what I did pay in money,” replied Mr. Fopperton, in a

hesitating manner.

“That was just what you did pay. Now tell the earned Commissioners what

else you gave the Insolvent for that bill.”

“There was three hundred and twenty in cash--and four hundred and

twenty in wines, pictures, and other objects of value----”

“Come--that only gives us seven hundred and forty,” cried the

barrister: “how do you make up the rest?”

“A hundred pounds _discount_, sir--and----”

“A hundred pounds discount. Well--what next?”

“Sixty pounds _commission_, sir--and----”

“Sixty pounds commission. You have still another hundred to account

for, Mr. Fopperton,” said the learned counsel, sharply. “Come--about

that other hundred? and mind what you tell the Commissioners.”

“Well, sir--the hundred pounds was for _bonus_,” answered the

fashionable tailor.

“That will do, sir: you may stand down,” said Mr. Cadgerbreef, looking

significantly at the learned Commissioners, with a view of impressing

it on their minds that he had just succeeded in fully unmasking a most

awful rogue.

Mr. Bulliwell now rose and made a very furious speech against the

Insolvent; so that a stranger unacquainted with the practice of English

Courts of Justice, would have fancied that the learned counsel had

some bitter and deadly motive of personal hatred against the young

gentleman;--whereas all that apparent venom--that seeming spite--that

assumed virulence--and that fierce eloquence were purchased by Mr.

Kicksey Fopperton for a couple of guineas. The speech was cheap--yes,

very cheap, when we take into consideration the almost excruciating

pains that the learned gentleman took to get Frank Curtis remanded

to prison for six months. So much perspiration--such frantic

gesticulation--and such impassioned declamation were well worth the

money; and if it did Mr. Bulliwell good to earn his two guineas on such

terms, it must have been equally satisfactory to Mr. Kicksey Fopperton

to obtain so good a two guineas’ worth.

During the delivery of this oration, Captain O’Blunderbuss could

scarcely contain his fury: as insulting epithet after epithet poured

from the lips of Mr. Bulliwell, who was always more eloquent when

conducting an opposition than when arguing a defence, the gallant

Irishman literally foamed at the mouth;--and it was only in the hope

of Mr. Cadgerbreef’s ability to mend the business, that he succeeded

in controlling his passion. At length Mr. Bulliwell sate down; and the

captain muttered in a pretty audible tone, “Blood and thunther! he

shall repint of this as long as he lives, if my frind is sent back to

the Binch!”

Mr. Cadgerbreef rose to defend his client, Frank Curtis; and as

the best means of making that young gentleman appear white was to

represent the opposing creditor as particularly black, the learned

counsel forthwith began to depict Mr. Kicksey Fopperton’s character

in such sable dyes that the unfortunate tailor soon found himself

held up to execration as a species of moral blackamoor. In fact, the

poor little man was stunned--astounded--paralysed by the vituperative

eloquence of Mr. Cadgerbreef; and as the learned counsel proceeded to

denounce his “numerous insolvencies” and “his frequent bankruptcies”

as proofs of unmitigated depravity,--as he dwelt upon the features

of the bill-transaction, and spoke with loathing of the _discount_,

with disgust of the _commission_, and with perfect horror of the

_bonus_,--Mr. Fopperton began to say to himself, “Well, upon my word, I

begin to fear that I am indeed a most unprincipled scoundrel: but the

fact was never brought home to me so forcibly before!”

In the meantime Captain O’Blunderbuss was in perfect ecstacies:

he forgot all that Mr. Bulliwell had said, in listening to the

counter-declamation of Mr. Cadgerbreef;--and his delight was expressed

in frequent ejaculatory outbursts, such as “Be Jasus, and there ye have

him!” but which passed comparatively unnoticed amidst the thundering

din of the learned counsel’s torrent of words. As for Mr. Frank Curtis,

he had cared little for the violent assault made upon him by Mr.

Bulliwell; but he was immensely pleased at the slaughterous attack

effected by Mr. Cadgerbreef on the dismayed and horrified tailor.

The defence being concluded, the two learned Commissioners consulted

with each other in whispers; and when they had exchanged a few remarks

having no more reference to the case before them than to the affairs of

the Chinese Empire, Mr. Commissioner Sneesby proceeded to deliver the

judgment of the Court.

Looking as awfully solemn as possible, he said, “Insolvent, it is

perfectly clear that you have run a career of extravagance and folly

which must be summarily checked. While enjoying a handsome allowance

from your worthy uncle, you contracted numerous debts in a most

reckless manner; and it is probable that Sir Christopher Blunt withdrew

that allowance in consequence of your spendthrift habits. Insolvent,

the Court is of opinion that you cannot be allowed your freedom again

until you shall have passed a certain time in confinement, both as a

punishment for the past and as a warning for the future. The judgment

of the Court is, therefore, that you be remanded at the suit of your

opposing creditor, Mr. Fopperton, for the space of five calendar months

from the date of your vesting order.”

“Thin bad luck to ye, ye slapy-headed ould scoundrels!” vociferated

Captain O’Blunderbuss.

“Holloa, there!” cried the usher, unable to pass over such a flagrant

breach of decorum as this, in spite of the awe with which the terrible

Irishman inspired him; and, springing towards the captain, the official

clutched him by the collar--while, to use the words of the newspaper

reporter, “the most tremendous sensation pervaded the Court.”

But Gorman O’Blunderbuss was not the man to be thus assailed with

impunity; and, knocking down the usher with one hand and Mr. Kicksey

Fopperton on the top of him with the other, he made a desperate rush

from the tribunal, no opposition being offered to his exit.

A few minutes afterwards he was joined at the public-house over the

way by his friend Frank Curtis and the tipstaff who had charge of the

latter; and the three worthies, following the example of the pious Mr.

Joshua Sheepshanks, drank spirits-and-water until they were compelled

to return to the King’s Bench in a hackney-coach.